


stardust and blood

by TheGodWith5Yen



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Memories, Non-Linear Narrative, Parallels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 23:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGodWith5Yen/pseuds/TheGodWith5Yen
Summary: Stardust and blood was all he was made up of. It was a poetically morbid thought- stardust and blood- that kept in his mind as he laid there, immobile, blood hardening on his face and his clothes, his breathing off, wheezy and light. It had came to him months ago, before this shitshow, before everything turned to the worst that he had turned toward this seemingly predestined planned path of pain and betrayal. His tired mind had thought of it- stardust and blood which made up each person- at three in the morning when he couldn’t find himself able to fall asleep, instead opting to think about nonsense that, if he remembered later that morning, he would keep for a character in some story he might never actually write.Those words, out of every thought, stuck.And they stuck now, as Jason was certain he was going to die.





	stardust and blood

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I've been thinking about Jason a lot lately and just sort of wrote this with no real direction??? But it felt nice... anyways hope y'all like it!

Stardust and blood was all he was made up of. It was a poetically morbid thought- stardust and blood- that kept in his mind as he laid there, immobile, blood hardening on his face and his clothes, his breathing off, wheezy and light. It had came to him months ago, before this shitshow, before everything turned to the worst that he had turned toward this seemingly predestined planned path of pain and betrayal. His tired mind had thought of it- stardust and blood which made up each person- at three in the morning when he couldn’t find himself able to fall asleep, instead opting to think about nonsense that, if he remembered later that morning, he would keep for a character in some story he might never actually write.

Those words, out of every thought, stuck. 

And they stuck now, as Jason was certain he was going to die. 

He closed his eyes, wondering if his stardust would be transferred back into the universe.

 

His feet padded against the light tile of the kitchen, Jason found himself deliberating stepping in a pattern, over one tile to the right until he hit the counter. If he found himself over near where Alfred had left sheets of cookies to cool, well, that was simply the will of the universe. Not that Jason had memorized the tiles, how what way he took would take him where. No, he would never. 

Jason set his elbows onto the hard countertop, before letting them fall and setting his cheek onto his arms. He stared at the cookies- Alfred called them brownie cookies- knowing that if he grabbed one and bit into them he would be in heaven, risen, not a care or regret in the world. His hand inched closer to them, his body moving without regarding his mind, only to be stopped with an abrupt clearing of a throat. 

“I was just about to call you down.” Came Alfred’s amused voice from behind Jason. He turned around fast, much too quickly to seem innocent damn it, and tried to pull out the face that often got Bruce to relent and let him stay up an extra hour playing on the Xbox. It was effective, most times. This was not most times and this was not Bruce. His grandfather raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head. “Go ahead- you can have three.” 

While a part of Jason wanted to complain about the injustice- three!- a larger part controlled him, happy to get what he could of Alfred’s wonderful cookies. He gave him a small smile as he grabbed the three he wanted. 

 

Jason wasn’t particularly religious or anything, he went to church with his mother when he was younger, in his best clothes that he had watched her iron out in the living room- with her pretty hands that always had pink nail polish on them and that mole on her right thumbs knuckle- zoning out whenever the priest would drone on about peoples duty of God and so forth. He wasn’t religious, but he found himself praying to God above, talking to Her, hoping She would spare him in some way. 

Hadn’t he been good? 

Maybe he hadn’t been the very best, but he tried, he tried so hard with what the world gave him. 

And-

And didn’t Jesus roll around with sinners, people who did bad things because of their situation, but wanted to do better? 

Jason licked at his dry lips. He tilted his head back, he could hear  _ his _ , the Joker the man responsible for this, laughter, loud and ringing and eerie. Never before had Jason found that man terrifying, sure he did some messed up shit, but that laughter, that high pitched voice never made him tense up so bad, his muscles tight, his heart beating erratically in his chest. 

 

Her hands were warm, she cupped his cheeks in her large hands, tilting his head up so she could get a proper look at him- so Jason could see her in all her glory. Wonder Woman- “Diana,” she insisted with a gleam in her dark eyes and a chuckle in her deep voice- smiled at him with her white teeth practically glowing against her dark skin. One of her hands let go, and Jason may have let out a pathetic sound (her hands were so warm and nurturing), only to boop at his nose. 

An honest to God giggle escaped his mouth. “Hi.” He found himself saying, giving her his very own bright smile. 

“Why hello my beautiful child of Aphrodite.” Diana whispered, her hands caressing his face. Her words took a second to process, when they did, Jason felt his cheeks heating up. Diana gave a hearty laugh. It was the most beautiful thing he have ever heard, like a bell being rung for the first time in years, having been ready for this moment for an eternity, the sound as lovely as the day the bell was first made. Maybe that metaphor didn’t quite make sense, but, well, Wonder Woman was fucking holding his face in her hands like he was made of glass and the most delicate of fine china, and, hey, that screwed with a kids ability to make sense. 

 

Jason supposed he should have remembered what death felt like, but he didn’t. There was no light or flash or tunnel or darkness. It was only nothing, nothing he could truly explain or feel unless he was to die again. He couldn’t remember death. 

But fucking God did he remember waking up.

He didn’t like remembering waking up. 

 

Sometimes his bed in the manor felt too soft, too good to be true. No matter he had been living here for a two years already. Alfred was still finding his stashed food and supplies in the house, looking absolutely devastated, his face twisted in an indescribable sadness, when he did. Jason sat up in his bed after waking from a bad dream. The minimal light coming from his window told him it was still nighttime, so he stayed in bed, his hands stroking the soft blue blanket. It was one he had got from the  _ remate _ when he had gone with Alfred and Bruce, the two very much, hilariously, out of place among the cheap knock offs, old furniture, and fried foods. It was a blanket usually for kids, but he had needed- wanted- it so badly, a reminder of where he used to be since he no longer had the one he had before he was out on the streets, the one his mother had bought for him. 

Jason breathed out, stilled his hands. “It was just a dream.” He whispered to himself. “Just a dream.”

He was still in Wayne Manor, with Alfred and Bruce close by. Jason was home, where nothing bad could ever happen to him, where he would stay forever and be safe. He curled up into himself, clutching the blanket to his body, face pressed into the softness as he reminded himself that he was safe and good and home. His mind began to wonder, too awake and on edge to fall back to sleep. 

There was a story, about a boy, that had been plaguing his mind whenever he had a free moment, pushing to be developed from mind onto paper, despite Jason not fully grasping what that story would even be about except for a few vague concepts. He had told Babs about them and she encouraged him to write it out and try to think more about that story, that she believed he could write something absolutely beautiful. 

So, Jason let himself wonder on what this world would be, who was the boy, a corpse devoured by the land he grew up in, was it was dream or reality? He pondered over some questions, mentally picturing actions the character would do, something pretentious and poetic he would say, blood running down from his nose as he sat in the deep darkness of an alley, knowing that the world would swallow him whole- all of his bones made up of stardust and the blood that flowed through his veins. 

As he fell asleep, he still wasn’t quite sure what that story was about, but the phrase about stardust and blood stayed in his mind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope this was alright??? thanks so much for reading!


End file.
